


"Flaws"

by GraphiteWrites



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Fighting, Gen, Mostly MCU, Sparring, ca: tws spoilers, punching bag death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraphiteWrites/pseuds/GraphiteWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic. Nat teaches Bucky that he just needs to scream and it will help more than he imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Flaws"

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. Fair warning: I used an online text translator for my Russian text, so I apologize to any speakers/readers for misinterpretation. It's also why I opted to put my original, English dialogue in italics after to get more of the point across. Especially since most languages translate to English in a much more formal manner.
> 
> Also, I threw Tony in there for a little bit of comic relief that I seriously just could not help.
> 
> I've been on a songfic kick lately, which isn't really like me, so expect a few more.  
> This one is "Flaws" by Bastille. I recommend listening to the acoustic version to go with this fic, BUT the original recorded track is just fine :)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated. I wanna know what you liked, or what you didn't (so long as you're constructive about it).

He was in the gym on a near-daily basis. After easing, bit by bit, out of his shell of broken memories, he began to openly spar with everyone. Anyone but Natasha. Steve was still a little bit difficult, sometimes taking him back to that day on the helicarrier six months ago. She never offered to step on the mat with him, but everyone could sense an unspoken rule of “no Natasha.” It had gotten to the point he would leave the Tower gym whenever she fought anything other than a bag.

Little hints had started to drop about a secret past between the two spies, but neither of them would allow for full disclosure. Bucky was reluctant to so much as nod a silent affirmation.

“I knew him. Before Odessa, I knew him,” was all Nat ever said.

There were late-night talks in the kitchen; hushed conversations in Russian always halted when someone entered the room.

They were both prone to midnight gym visits on nights they couldn’t sleep but he always avoided her there. It’s why he was so thankful for the dark, empty room. He had laid in bed for two hours staring at the ceiling and wallowing in his own self-loathing. Once in a while, he still had these moments of remembering the monster he’d been molded into; it was only months ago he was carrying out blood-soaked missions and mindlessly following orders. It bothered him, depressed him, made him angry.

He snuck in quietly, clad in just his basketball shorts and boxing tape in hand. Usually, he had an iPod or something, but only when there were others here. He never spoke during heaving workouts because, in the gym, he turned into the Soldier. No one wanted to hear that; no one wanted to hear his dead voice barking out orders. This wasn’t the Red Room and he was training no one. He turned on half the lights and chuckled to himself at the thought of ambient lighting; set the mood for bloody knuckles. He had just finished taping his right hand when he stood and noticed her standing just inside the impact traffic doors.

He said nothing, meeting her dark green eyes and debating on whether or not to leave. Her hands were already taped, wearing a black sport bra and capri sweats.

“Mat. Now,” she said flatly and walking to the edge.

“Нет.” _No,_ he said coldly.

She continued to stare at him. “Теперь.” _Now._ She assumed a defensive stance, ready to spar.

He rolled his eyes at her, moving to the opposite edge and taking a weak form. “Я не могу делать это. Не с вами.” _I cannot do this. Not with you._ His eyes begged her not to ask this of him. He would fall into the wrong memory. He would lose himself in his past. He would hurt her.

“Я – Вдова,” _I am a Widow,_ she told him. “Fight me like one.” She took quick, dancing steps towards him and spun, her foot striking across his face with force.

It knocked him off balance and he twisted down to one knee. He looked up at her through the hair in his face, eyes narrowed.

She was back in her starting position, looming over him, her fists loose by her chin.

“Стенд.” _Stand,_ she ordered.

“слабая форма,” _Weak form,_ he countered, falling back into the role of teacher, just like when she was young.

“борьба,” _Fight._ She moved to bring her knee up to his jaw.

He caught her leg mid-motion with his left hand, the bionics waking up and whining as his grip tightened around her calf. He watched her fight not to wince and growled. He stood and twisted effortlessly lifting her body and spinning her through the air to land hard on her back. She looked up at him, breathless.

“Это - то, что вы хотите?” _Is it that  you want?,_ he asked darkly, chest starting to heave as his anger began to build.

“Да,” _Yes._ She held up a hand to him like she wanted up.

He reached down with his right hand and knew his mistake as soon as her small, powerful fingers curled around his. Before he knew it, he was on the ground beneath her, her fists punching into his kidneys. He growled at her and let loose, becoming the Soldier he used to be. They fought hard and fast, but she could tell he was holding back.

“Get angry,” she puffed between blows.

He landed a knee to her gut.

“Do it,” she ordered. She cartwheeled behind him, her arms reaching around his throat. “You need to get past this. Us.” Her lips were at his ear.

His hands wrapped around her arm with a crushing force and he flipped her over his body, pinning her throat to the mat under his bare foot. He looked down at her with sad, angry eyes as her breathing became constricted. Her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear her words. It was like listening through cotton balls.

“JAMES!” she yelled and broke through his self-induced deafness.

His eyes widened in horror and he tumbled off her ungracefully, all gangly limbs and weak knees.

_When all of your flaws and all of my flaws_   
_Are laid out one by one_   
_A wonderful part of the mess that we made_   
_We pick ourselves undone_   


She had been suffocating. This was why he never wanted to fight her. She was too close to his equal. It was too familiar.

She slowly stood and walked to him, extending a hand, not a hint of anger or fear in her face. He supposed she was good at hiding that, but there was an underlying understanding. After a moment of him staring at her in disbelief, she forced him to his feet and led him to a punching bag in the corner of the room.

“You haven’t screamed, yet.” She said it softly, placing both of his palms flat on either side of the worn leather.

“So?” he asked, still ashamed he had tried to kill her. Again.

“I know what you’re feeling; I know what it’s like. I know there’s a mess in your head.”

_All of your flaw and all of my flaws_   
_They lie there, hand in hand_   
_Ones we’ve inherited, ones that we learned_   
_They pass from man to man_   


She placed herself between the bag and the mirrored wall, her hands over his. He could see her reflection; the exit wound by her hip and choice other scars from her years in espionage. The scare he couldn’t see were burned across her mind, but he knew they were there, coated in emotional scar tissue.

He closed his eyes and balled his fists. He felt the ache of shame and rage fill his chest and he struck the bag, hard.

_There’s a hole in my soul_   
_I can’t fill it, I can’t fill it_   
_And there’s a hole in my soul_   
_Can you fill it, can you fill it?_   


“C’mon,” she goaded in a whisper, absorbing the slight sway of the bag with her body.

He built speed as he thought of every year in cryo, every time they stripped the surface of his mind to make room for more relevant information. His fists clenched tighter, his hits came harder and more frequent. His eyes opened to stare at her reflection. A strong, deep growl rolled from his chest as he stared at the large scar on her back.

_You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve_   
_I have always buried them deep beneath the ground_   
  


The mechanical whir of his arm grew louder as he flexed the hardware for stronger blows. He saw Natasha adjust her stance to hold the bag better, her body beginning to sway with each powerhouse strike. Distantly, she could hear the strong seams beginning to tear.

His eyes burned, his throat itched with the scream he claimed he so desperately needed.

_Dig them up; let’s finish what we started_   
_Dig them up, so nothing’s left unturned_   


He felt it winding through his body, starting at his toes. He looked up at Nat’s impossibly green eyes; saw the light bruise blossoming on her throat. Vaguely, he heard a faint _tink_ of sand hitting his forearm. His eyes screwed shut tight and he let loose a wordless, raw scream. It bounced off the mirror, the concrete floors, as his left hand buried itself inside the bag spilling sand across the floor in a sudden rush.

Natasha maneuvered around the rapidly deflating bag to catch Bucky as he collapsed to his knees. She let him fold into her in stages. He fell from his knees to lean against her, ending with arms wrapped tight around her slim waist and his cheek pressed against the scar by her hip.

_All of your flaws and all of my flaws_   
_When they have been exhumed_   
_We’ll see that we need them to be who are_   
_Without them we’d be doomed_   


She felt moisture on her skin and curled around him protectively, murmuring to him in Russian.

“Аналогично. The knot in your chest is smaller now, isn’t it? Совершенный.” _Like that. Accomplished._ She shushed him, stroking his hair away from his temple.

He rolled away just a little to rest his head in her lap and look up at her with hollow, wet eyes and a broken spirit. He kept his cold left arm curled around the back of her midsection. He was looking to her for silent help.

_There’s a hole in my soul_   
_I can’t fill it, I can’t fill it_   
_And there’s a hole in my soul_   
_Can you fill it, can you fill it?_   


She continued to finger-comb his hair back away from hazel, blood-shot eyes.

“You know,” she spoke softly in English, reaching one hand across him to touch his fleshy fingers. “Back then, in the Red Room, when I was just a kid, I had the biggest thing for you.” She smiled a little, fighting a blush creeping into the apples of her cheeks. “I was learning how to kill people by seven. By fifteen, I had learned my body would be my weapon.”

_You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve_   
_And I have always buried them deep within the ground_   


“You taught me,” she whispered fondly. “You taught me to fight and to be deadly, taught me I was for more than just sex.” She laced their fingers together, bringing his bloodied, taped knuckles to her lips.

_When all of your flaws  
And all of my flaws are counted_

  
His fingers tightened around hers, staring at their joined hands with something that resembled hope. “You’re showing me I am for more than just death. I… I am more than what they made of me.” His voice was raspy and choked. “Спасибо, моя Вдова.” _Thank you, my Widow._ He pulled their hands down, drawing her towards him and kissing her softly. It was slow and gentle, but full of gratitude and shared past.

  
_All of your flaws and all of my flaws_   
_Are laid out one by one_   
_Look at the mess that we made_   
_We pick ourselves undone_

* * *

  
Tony peered through the circle of glass in the door at the pair on the ground surrounded in spilled sand.

  
“I knew it!” he whispered to himself. “JARVIS?”

  
“Yes, sir?” came the AI’s quiet voice.

  
“Order a new bag for the gym. A couple of ‘em.”

  
“As you wish, sir.”

  
Tony turned and walked back down the hall in his father’s ugly, paisley robe. “Oh, and JARVIS?”

  
“Sir?” He almost sounded exasperated.

  
“Make sure everyone steers clear of the gym until it’s cleaned up. The Soviet Soulmates are having a moment.”


End file.
